


Wuyeshi part one

by fireflysglow_archivist



Category: Firefly
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-01
Updated: 2003-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-29 12:43:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14473020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflysglow_archivist/pseuds/fireflysglow_archivist
Summary: Midnight. Inner voices.





	Wuyeshi part one

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Firefly’s Glow](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Firefly%27s_Glow), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Firefly's Glow collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/fireflysglow/profile).

 

Wuyeshi part one

## Wuyeshi part one

### by skripka

Wuyeshi Part One 

M/S 

Sffan came through with the beta. Bless you, dear. I don't own these characters, Mutant Enemy does. Fox didn't deserve them. Archive: Just let me know.  
Feedback: Sure, why not? 

Wuyeshi: At Midnight  
Tianna: Oh, God  
Gaisi: damn, shit 

* * *

It was a quiet night on Serenity. Mal couldn't sleep. Actually, this was a common occurrence, insomnia was one of the more mild symptoms that plagued him since the war. The quiet, however, was to be treasured. 

Mal had given up on sleep an hour ago, gotten dressed, and came up to the cockpit. He sat, idly toying with dials and switches, staring out into the black. For once, not thinking, not planning, not feeling. A quiet numbness wrapped around him like the sky wrapped around the ship. It was familiar, relaxing. 

A soft scuff came from the deck behind him. Although startled, Mal managed to rotate lazily in his chair. "Doc," he stated. 

Simon stood in the doorway, arms stretched out, holding onto the edge of the doorjamb, balancing his weight on the balls of his feet.. He was wearing only a soft pair of loose sleeping pants. Mal managed not to gape at the well formed torso on display, but couldn't stop the flood of heat that rushed through and threatened his comfortable cloak of indifference. 

"Captain?" the young man's voice was hesitant, hazy, as if he had just awoken. "I didn't expect anyone else would be awake at this hour." 

"Wouldn'tve expected you to come up here either. Usually get my sleepless evenin's alone." 

"I'm sorry. I'll just head back to the infirmary." Simon half turned to go. 

The voice in Mal's head was almost screaming _bad idea, stupid man, let him leave_ when Mal's mouth opened and out poured, "You can stay, if you want." 

"Are you sure? I don't want to intrude." 

"No intrusion. Long as you stay good company, at least." 

The smile that formed on the young doctor's face made Mal's heart hurt. Simon walked softly to the other chair, and sat down gracefully. He leaned forward, clasping his hands over his knees. "I have no idea how you stand it," as his eyes raked across the windows. 

"Stand what?" 

"The emptiness. All that ... nothingness out there." 

Mal didn't want to reveal that the emptiness of space was nothing compared to the emptiness inside his gut. He merely huffed, "You can get used to anything I guess." Those eyes were going to be the death of him. Well, the eyes, the arms, the skin, the hair, and all those muscles just out of reach. _stupid man, now you should leave_ went that inner voice. 

"Do you suffer from insomnia often?" asked Simon, suddenly all doctor, which made the directness of his gaze fortunately more bearable. 

Mal felt an inexplicable need for honesty, and answered "Since the war. Don't like the dreams, so I avoid sleeping." 

"Ah." Simon nodded, a lock of hair falling out of place. Mal`s hand twitched. "Post-traumatic stress disorder. I'm sure I have something that would help." 

"I'll let you know if it becomes unbearable." Mal turned away. The idea of just looking at the boy was becoming too much to bear. Distance would be good. _now you get the idea, get the fuck out of here_ "Why are you skulking around my boat, Doc?" Well, gruffness would have to do. 

"I'm not skulking." The voice had a smile to it, and Mal couldn't help glancing that way. _now you're done for, stupid man_ "Too much floating in my head to sleep." Simon's hands were fluttering around his head, and Mal had a sudden image of those delicate hands touching his mouth, of their taste, or _tianna_ , of how they would feel in other, less public places. He closed his eyes. It was too much. 

"Captain?" There was concern there. "Are you all right?" There was also the sound of movement, the shift of air. Suddenly, one of those hands was on his forehead, cool and competent. " _Gaisi_ , you are warm. Let me get you ..." Of it's own volition, Mal's hand grasped Simon's. There was a brief frozen moment. That inner voice groaned. Or maybe it was his outer voice. Hard to tell with all that blood rushing around. "Captain ..." it was a soft question, perhaps an answer. 

"Mal. Please." 

"Mal." Simon moved their linked hands lower. "Will you look at me?" 

His eyes opened. Those blue eyes were intense, reserved, and questioning at the same time. He could almost feel the mutual need pouring off the boy. No, not the boy, Simon. His voice caught. All he could do was reach out the other hand and touch the partially exposed hip. A slight tug, and the lithe body was ensconced firmly on his lap. The warmth against his body made him groan again. 

"Are you all right?" Simon asked again. Mal just held on tighter, and pulled the twined hands to his mouth. He couldn't speak, all he could do was brush his lips against the knuckles. And then there was a fingertip, just invitingly there. Somehow, it found it's way into his mouth. Mal groaned again. Sweat, soap ... it was all Simon, and tasted like ... God, he didn't know. It was wonderful, and he sucked lightly. His eyes wandered up to Simon's face. Rapt with desire, that mouth (what a mouth) slightly opened in astonishment, the eyes going dark with lust. A nibble on the finger, a deeper draw, a sweep of the tongue and a groan was pulled out of the younger man. "Mal ... we ..." and the breath hitched in his throat. 

Too much. Mal was overwhelmed with feeling. He pulled at Simon's neck, and kissed that mouth. It was dark, dark and sweet, and endless, and just this much contact ... well, it was beyond any rational thought. Both hands were framing Simon's head, and holding onto that devouring kiss. He felt other hands, one on his thigh, one on his shoulder blade. They were no longer cool. Heat gathered at those points, it was a crescendo, it would never stop, and he couldn't stop tasting that mouth. He had to. Couldn't lose control. He pulled back, pushed away, he couldn't bear it any more. 

Simon, gasping in his arms, flushed face and torso, lips and eyes dark with desire. Everything he was feeling was reflected in the younger man's demeanor. Mal found his voice, husky. Sounded like years had passed since he used it. 

"Come down" 

Simon's voice matched his own. "Mal, I'm already about to come here." Stunned. Wanting. Mal needed him. Not here. 

Mal stood up, dragging Simon with him. He brushed some hair out the younger man`s face. Held on to his arms as he stole one quick, rough kiss. Just enough to quiet the inner voices. "No. My bunk now." 

**TBC**

#### If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to skripka


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